


alternate universes

by cozycatwriter



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Genderbending, I also don't know if claire and jill should be genderbent or no, like sort of, ok so it's chreon but not really, or like just have the main four being a girl team, that's like the whole idea behind this story, yeah i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozycatwriter/pseuds/cozycatwriter
Summary: my brain decided that it wanted to make a genderbend story so here
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	alternate universes

The noises are the worst part. Or maybe it's the stench.

The noises are echoing, loud growls and yells that get louder and louder as the infected draw closer and closer.

The rancid smell is hitting hard. It's the kind of smell that won't leave you, one that if you ever get a whiff of something like it again, you might pause, your brain running marathons as you throws back onto memory lane, and suddenly it's like you're there, where you first smelt it as your surroundings melt away around you and rise up again out of the cobwebs and shadows of your mind as it recreates the scene around you when you first encountered the smell. 

The sounds seem to have lost their pitch and their ability to gauge volume, as some of the screams turn into high pitched whining, while others disappear from hearing only to suddenly roar back to life as if source of the sound was right next to your ear. There isn't just incoherent yelling though, there's voices and sounds of language happening at the same time. But it's like you've just entered a foreign land and don't understand the words. Or like the words have become blurred, you can tell there's words, but there's a disconnect between you and your brain and even though it knows that the sounds are words, it won't recognize them, won't translate them into actual words and instead they sound slurred, or like someone trying to a foreign language that doesn't know how to speak it.

It feels crushing. The noises and sounds and bodies all around are pushing in, closer and closer together. At this point it almost feels like drowning. There's no life raft, no weapon to protect you. You can push back at water all you want, but it will never give and will never tire, just like the endless sea of bodies choking up the hallway.

It's a weird flicker between realities. The hands of the infected grabbing all over feel like the harsh waves of a cold dead sea, the dirty and worn fingers pulling you down feel like seaweed, or the pull of the dark deep water that's making it's way into every nook and crevice in your body and freezing your body, your organs, and your bones. The fingers pulling at your hair and clothes are as strong and as frigid as the water that's making it's way into your mouth and nose, pouring into your lungs.

As you drown, being pulled down by infected hands, strong dark waves grabbing at your clothes and skin, floating away on a sea of mindless zombified bodies, the water making you lose your breath as it pours into you, you can't help but reach an arm out, straight into the blood spattered gloomy sky, as dark and angry clouds roll over the grey ceiling. Trying to reach for something, for someone, for anything to help you.

There's nothing. Just a black empty void.

Then there's a circle, with five outward attachments, almost like a star. There's a blue light from somewhere casting a shadow on the strange shape.

There's something soft on top, but it feels tangled around clenched, aching hands.

There's another noise, but it's nothing like the infected. It sounds like harsh short breaths, with a strangled hitch at the end of them. It sounds like one person.

A minute passes. The hands unclench. The breathing slows.

A glance over to the right reveals the identity of the blue light. It's from an alarm clock, the bright lights showing, "3:23 AM".

A glance to the left shows a figure on other side of the bed, turned away from the alarm clock, sleeping soundly. They've got shoulder length dark hair spread out on the pillow they're laying on, and the soft sheets reveal a rise and fall as they breath a slow, quiet and steady pace. It seems important, that movement.

Just beyond the bed there's dim light emitting from another room. Following the light leads into a small kitchen.

The harsh breathing has somewhat stopped, though there is still a lingering ache. The main sound now is bare feet padding across the cold kitchen floor. Though the person walking across to the vacant coffee machine doesn't seem to notice.

As the machine brews, it emits a small buzz as it does, causing the person who started to give a small wince and glance back toward the bed, hoping the other person didn't hear it. There doesn't seem to be any movement from the bed though, and the woman gives a small sigh of relief as she turns back to the coffee machine and watches the mug she had chosen slowly fill with the dark strong smelling liquid.

She can slightly see herself in the liquid's surface, but it's rippling and unsteady. Her dark hair doesn't look like the pixie cut she's used to, and her face is contorted and stretched unlike the narrow jaw that shows itself in shiny mirrors and still reflective surfaces. She can see her dark under-eyes though. The sight jolts her back to sleepless nights and the stretched face reminds her of ones she saw years ago, in torn normal clothing and dirtied police uniforms. It reminds her why she's standing here at 3am in the morning making coffee.

At least it smells good.

Any smell would be better than the one she was just experiencing in her nightmare, she mused. Especially coffee.

She's just reaching for her cup when suddenly there's a pair of hands attached to strong, toned arms winding their way across her stomach. Then a chin rests on her left shoulder.

"Thought you said my stealth was for shit." A croaky quiet voice breaks the silence as she releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She reaches for the abandoned coffee. There's a small container to the left of the coffee machine that she reaches for next. It's got a top on it that won't close the container because of the metal spoon stuck into the container holding it open. She uses the spoon to put some sugar in the coffee before setting it down and finally picking the mug back up.

She takes a sip.

"That doesn't include zombie related nightmares."

She sighs, turning towards the the person at hand. Brown eyes are crinkled in concern and seem to be analyzing her tired, worn face.

Damn. She thought was quiet.

"Did I wake you up?"

The taller woman in front of her gives a small shake of her head, "Not really. Just wanna make sure you're okay."

The smaller woman set the coffee down on the counter behind and wraps her arms around the back of the other woman's neck, the messy brown hair tickling the woman's forearms.

"Chris, I'm fine, ok?"

Chris sets her hands on the other woman's hips and sighs.

"I know. But it's ok if you're not."

The other smiles at her response, but suddenly there's noise coming from the bedroom that sounds like two seperate phones ringing at the same time.

They both bolt towards the bedroom. If _both_ of their phones are ringing, that can't be a good sign.

Chris must still be groggy with sleep, because her partner reaches her phone first. Glancing down at the name on the phone, reading 'Hunnigan', the woman hits the answer button

"Kennedy." Another button pressed, "You're on speaker."

A tinny voice plays from the phone.

_"Lianne, the DSO is asking for your help to lead a team into the lab we're been watching the last few weeks."_

"Help to lead a team?"

_"To lead with and for a team of DSO and BSAA agents. The BSAA had information on the lab too, and putting everything together, whatever is down there is powerful."_

A glance to Chris and she gives a short nod, looking up from her phone, assumably reading messages about the current situation.

Lianne turns her attention back to Hunnigan.

"Alright. Where are we headed?"

**Author's Note:**

> listen I KNOW that like no one's gonna read this but shush ok I wanna have fun-part of me thinks this is just me projecting and wanting to have a hot girlfriend who can lift me over her head ok shush I can dream-this story is also just me getting ideas for specific scenes and wanting to write them out
> 
> also, do I genderbend everyone or no  
> or do we want like the main 4 being an all powerful girl team basically


End file.
